


le boquet magique

by loverb0y



Series: charlieverse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (not in the main ship but it's mentioned), Ballroom Dancing, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Faerie Courts, Faerie Politics, Fantasy, Mutual Pining, Pining, Politics, Romance, Slavery, Unseelie Court, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 23:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverb0y/pseuds/loverb0y
Summary: Nathan Bishop is not entirely sure he’s going to make it to the end of this revelry alive.Of course, that’s kind of the mood for every revelry, but Nathan likes to consider himself rather adept at murdering other faeries, because he was raised in the icy grips of the Winter Court and he’s still alive now, three hundred or so years later. But of course, he’s never attended a revelry with Charlotte Sanchez present, and if he’s going to die anytime soon, Nathan is beginning to think it’s going to be her fault.





	le boquet magique

Nathan Bishop is not entirely sure he’s going to make it to the end of this revelry alive.

Of course, that’s kind of the mood for every revelry, but Nathan likes to consider himself rather adept at murdering other faeries, because he was raised in the icy grips of the Winter Court and he’s still alive now, three hundred or so years later. But of course, he’s never attended a revelry with Charlotte Sanchez present, and if he’s going to die anytime soon, Nathan is beginning to think it’s going to be her fault.

She’s standing across the room like some sort of devil in red, the scarlet lace clinging tight around her shoulders and chest, cascading from her waist in a seemingly ever-shifting skirt of chiffon. Her hair glimmers and reflects the lights, silver strands woven into a braided crown across her head, dotted with flowers as bloody red as the rest of her outfit. And she’s _frowning_ , which is the funny thing, the thing that makes Nathan feel like his heart is going to climb out of his chest and strangle him to death. Seeing her come down those stairs, alluring and elegant in that devastating gown, it broke something like a dam in Nathan’s chest. Every bone in his ribcage feels stretched tight against his skin while his heart beats like a hummingbird’s, and he hates himself for it; because seeing her descending into the revelry like some creature of holy fire had been nothing compared to watching the delicate twist of her mouth as she frowns out at the crowds of dancing faerie.

A part of him wants, so badly, for her scarlet dress to have been nothing more than a fashion statement, a fool’s mistake, but he knows her too well for that. Charlie is too smart for that. Charlie would have known, just like Nathan knows, every time he wears ruby earrings he is declaring his allegiance, declaring himself to Damaris and her causes. But he’s never done anything like this before, has kept his sigils of red small and just enough that anyone who isn’t paying attention could brush it off as a simple formality. With her scarlet gown and golden jewelry, Nathan knows there was never a doubt in Charlie’s mind as to what people would think, what she would be saying. Dressed head to toe in Damaris’ colors, the necromancer isn’t just declaring allegiance- she’s declaring something more, something makes Nathan’s throat tighten just to think about.

It’s a mark of being _claimed_ , and Nathan hates it.

He has a ring of scars around his throat that remind him of just how _claimed_ he is, how he lost the choice the minute King North brought his screaming, crying, human bastard through the doors of the Winter Court. Nathan wanted to choose Damaris, once. But he knows, deep in his soul, that even if he _could_ , even if she were to release him, she would not choose him back. She loves him, yes. He loves her, more than he thinks he could ever describe, but… it’s not the same, knowing that there’s never not going to be that mark of _ownership_ , on him. And Damaris is a faerie creature, human blood or not, and she is vicious and callous and cruel at the worst of times, no matter the warmth Nathan knows is there. Damaris will always be a woman of the Winter Court, no matter how long they spend away from it, and for as long as she is a woman of the Winter Court, Nathan will _never_ be considered more than her property, her birthright.

He loves her. That much is true. But Nathan knows, in the deepest part of his heart, that he can’t love her enough to forgive that.

And it hadn’t mattered, before Charlie. He had been content, before Charlie. But now she’s standing in the Winter Court’s revelry, frowning at nothing in particular, and Nathan’s heart feels caught in a vice from how badly he wants to go to her. Charlie, who had slept with a kitchen knife under her pillow until he had bought her two proper blades; who had named the knives because he thought naming blades was important, who took care of them better than she took care of herself. Charlie, who had cursed him out at the top of her voice, who had bitten him on the hand to make him let go of her, who had once yelled Damaris North down in an argument.

Charlie, who had asked him to stay. Charlie, who had _asked_ , never demanded.

Nathan has never once thought her anything less than beautiful. Nathan has never once thought her anything less than iron-forged, strong and true and painful to be around. (It had taken him far too long to realize the pain was not of annoyance, but rather love.)

He’s walking across the ballroom floor before he can stop himself, halting in front of her and doing his best to keep his hands from twisting with anxiety. “Lady Sanchez,” he says, cutting himself off from how awkward it sounds.

She looks at him, silver eyes flickering with amusement. “You and I are far past the formalities, Sir Nathan,” she says, voice dry. “Are you enjoying the celebrations?”

He tilts his head to the side. “No,” he tells her, ever-honest, because he can’t lie, not here. “But I’d be enjoying it more if you’d do me the honor of dancing with me.” He wants to bite his tongue, wants to go beg Damaris to cut it out if it means stopping himself from ever speaking again, because he hasn’t been an awkward _boy_ in nearly two centuries, yet here he is, stressing over asking a girl to dance.

She raises her eyebrows, the unspoken question clear in the tilt of her lips, the way her face shifts just slightly. _You’ll pull me back out?_

Nathan bows, and offers a hand, and tries not to think about how much trust she’s putting in him. “Always, my lady,” he murmurs, and she slides her hand into his, her terracotta skin dark in contrast with his own fawn-pale hands.

[ The music is soft ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qPObwoUuSK0), and romantic enough to make him blush as he pulls her close, leading her through the steps as they shift into the rest of the revelry-goers. Nathan has heard of humans getting distracted, getting lost in the magic of it all, but Charlie’s eyes remain clear as he spins her around, the colors of the world shifting and running around them. “You’re a very good dancer,” she murmurs as he pulls her close.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” he replies with a wry grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be heavily armed, my lady?”  

She sighs, rolling her eyes. When he dips her, she slides her thigh up just enough, his hand dipping dangerously low until he can feel the grooves of Soulsinger through the fabric of her dress. “Even if I’m not weapon enough on my own,” she says quietly as he pulls her back up, “I tend not to go many places without them, nowadays.”

And she can’t know how that makes his chest thump in his heart, how the words make heat rise in his cheeks. The waltz speeds up, and so do they, and the next time he twirls her out, green magic sparks around her heels and makes her skirt flare out in a burst of red against the sea of black and cream that the other faerie sport. “Dramatic,” he chides gently, pulling her back in, and she grins, all bared teeth and unapologetic joy.

“A girl’s gotta have some fun around here,” she retorts, and it feels like they’re having two different conversations as once, like the world is melting away and leaving Nathan stranded with this girl, this fearsome creature he wants so badly and is terrified to have. “I can see why people get lost in this,” she admits, and her eyes never once leave his face.

“I think it would ruin quite a few prophecies if you were to get stuck here,” he quips, and she pokes her tongue out in response. “Besides, our song is almost over. You remember the deal.”

 _If you’re going to dance at all, you get_ **_one_ ** _song,_ Damaris had instructed them both, and the waltz is coming to an end. “Pity,” Charlie says, the final notes rising and falling around them as he carefully guides their dance to the edge of the revelry. “You’ll have to take me dancing again, Nate.”

Nathan very carefully doesn’t think about the implications of that as he removes his hand from Charlie’s waist, but she twists the hand that’s still caught in hers and catches his wrist, grip firm. “Charlie,” he begins, voice soft, and pleading, and those brilliant silver eyes are looking at him with some untold emotion as the world settles into place around them once more.

“Stay,” she asks him, just like all that time ago, sitting on her bed and thinking about death. “Please, Nate. Nathan. If you want to, you should stay.”

He shouldn’t. He’s putting himself in danger, putting her in danger, and Damaris will be upset, or worse, she’ll be _hurt_ , and Nathan could list a million other reasons as to why he should wrench his arm out of Charlie’s grip and be done with the maddening, infuriating human girl.

But he doesn’t, because no matter what reasons there are to leave, he’ll only ever need one to stay. “Of course,” he murmurs, falling into place beside her, waiting for the end of the world he was raised in to begin as they watch the revelry. He thinks he may finally be resigning himself to a life of being stupid, and selfish, and staying right next to her, no matter what comes.

**Author's Note:**

> the song linked is where the title comes from- _le boquet magique_ , composed by jeff ball and jake kaufman for the shovel knight plague of shadows dlc. one of my favorite songs! 
> 
> this is my first work on this account, which i've made to keep my fanfiction separate from my original works. this work is part of the charlieverse, which is an extensive universe i'm excited to keep posting about on here! artwork can be found on my art tumblr, [dw33by.](https://dw33by.tumblr.com/)
> 
> as always, my main tumblr is [here](https://lovecorpse.tumblr.com) & my ko-fi is [here.](https://ko-fi.com/A3661QR0)
> 
> thanks for reading!


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